


Hospital Reaction Shot

by dorbee



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Cancer, Gen, Hospitalization, Lots of Crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorbee/pseuds/dorbee
Summary: Scrooge McDuck has been among the world's greatest adventurer for over a century. This is how his story ends.
Relationships: Scrooge & A Lot of People
Comments: 64
Kudos: 106





	1. It’s the End of the World as We Know It

**Author's Note:**

> The Major Character Death warning is a toad and I lick it to get high.
> 
> I was surprised that this concept hadn't been beaten into the ground, so I decided to throw my hat into the ring. This'll be roughly 14 chapters, which are already written, and I'll be posting them over a period of days/weeks. This chapter acts as an extended prologue for the rest of the story, which takes place over the course of one day. Expect shorter chapters after this.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

It was an adventure like any other, until it wasn’t. They landed in the Restless Ravine, crossed Babel Bridge, and now they were a mile’s hike away from the Temple of Umir. Once they were in there, it was just a matter of tracking down the Circlet of Sanctity!

And then Scrooge stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s wrong, Uncle Scrooge!?” Dewey said, leaping ahead in martial arts position to find… nothing? He turned back to his Uncle and noticed his eyes weren’t even open. “Uncle Scrooge?” he repeated, tugging on his sleeve. 

Scrooge took a sharp breath in and blinked, his eyes darting around a moment until he met Dewey’s gaze. He smiled, but Dewey couldn’t help but notice he was sweating bullets. “I’m fine, lad,” he said. “Taking a breather is all.”

“Yeah, you don’t look very fine,” Donald said, crossing his arms. Scrooge shot him a scowl.

“Oh I’ll show you fine, ya layabout—” and Scrooge’s knees gave out from under him like he’d been shot. Donald dove out and caught him before he could hit the ground. The kids stepped back, silent and staring. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Donald repeated. Scrooge grumbled, but didn’t put up a fight as Donald helped him back to his feet. He slung Scrooge’s arm over his shoulder and turned back, trudging forward at a slow pace. 

‘W-where are you going?” Webby asked, biting her nails. Donald gave her the most comforting look he could at a time like this.

“We’re going home.”

* * *

Scrooge spoke to the doctor like he was in confessional. 

He’d been in pain for months. It started in his gut, went up his back, down his limbs. Soon there was nothing that didn’t ache by morning and burn by night. But he was tougher than the toughies! This too would pass… and it just didn’t. The day he fell, every move he made hurt worse than the one before it. It was no longer in his control: his body _demanded_ he stop.

The doc nodded understanding, taking exacting notes. She ordered a laundry list of tests that would make anyone cringe, but it seemed called for with a patient like Scrooge McDuck. 

Three days. Five days. One week. Two weeks. 

“Mr. McDuck, I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Many people across many worlds had many names for Scrooge McDuck’s affliction. 

On Earth, we call it cancer. 

Scrooge wandered out of the hospital in a daze. Dazed enough that he walked right by—

“Mr. McD, where’re you going?” Launchpad called, sticking his head out the window of the limo. “...Can I come?”

Scrooge shook himself back to reality and sighed. “We’re going home, Launchpad.” 

“Alright, Mr. McD!”

Scrooge got into the back of the limo and settled into his seat, which he felt could swallow him whole. Launchpad sped off, like he always did, and Scrooge smiled. At least one thing could stay the same. 

“How’d that appointment go?”

Scrooge gulped. Oh, of course Launchpad wanted to talk. Of course Launchpad asked just the wrong question. He held his cane tightly in both hands. “Can’t say it went well.”

Launchpad gave Scrooge a concerned look. “Did they find out what’s wrong? Or did they not? Both of those sound like problems—”

“EYES ON THE ROAD!” Scrooge shouted, jumping up to hook his cane around the steering wheel and veer out of the way of a lamppost. His whole body ached as he sat back down. 

“Sorry Mr. McD!” Launchpad said. The car moved in awkward jolts, which Scrooge recognized as Launchpad’s anxious leg bouncing on the gas pedal. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Scrooge sighed. Launchpad had been with him for _years_. He deserved to know. 

“I’ve got cancer.”

Launchpad stopped dead and told Scrooge more than words could—he parallel parked. Perfectly. “Is it bad?” he asked, turning to face Scrooge with both hands gripping the back of his seat. Scrooge only nodded. Launchpad’s face twisted, but he held himself together and nodded back. “And are you gonna be okay?”

Scrooge sighed. “Well, they can slow it down, but I’ll still die and it’ll hurt like the devil, so—”

“I get it,” Launchpad said, turning back to the steering wheel without another word. His hands were at 10 and 2, eyes on the road. He pulled out of his space and drove the speed limit all the way back to the manor. It broke Scrooge’s heart. He cleared his throat and went to open the door as Launchpad slowed to a stop. "Thank ye, Launchpad, I’ll—"

“Can I give you a hug, Mr. McD?” Launchpad asked, immediately making a face. “Sorry, I just thought it might—“ Scrooge pulled Launchpad into a firm embrace. Launchpad hugged back three times harder.

It hurt. Good lord, it hurt. And yet Scrooge had rarely felt better.

* * *

“Something’s wrong, I see.”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow. “Good afternoon to you too, Beakley.”

She walked right into his personal space and stared him down. “Launchpad didn’t crash into the front steps, and you gave him a hug,” she said. “It could be coincidence, but I know you better than that. You got bad news, didn’t you?”

Scrooge tapped his cane a few times and sighed. “So much for personal privacy,” he muttered. “Could we discuss this somewhere other than the front room?”

“Of course,” she said, motioning to the kitchen. Scrooge entered first and Beakley followed. He leaned against the counter while she stood with her arms crossed. “You can say as much or as little as you want. All I’m asking is that you be honest with me, and more importantly your family.”

“Well, there’s not much to it,” he said. “It’s cancer.”

Beakley winced. “I worried that might be the case. I’m so sorry, Scrooge.”

He waved a hand. “No, no, I’ll have none of that pity from you. It’s hard, but I’m going to get through it on my own two feet.”

“Are you?” she asked, an earnest look in her eyes that she reserved for special occasions. Scrooge shrunk back. “I don’t know what your prognosis might be, but I can promise it will be worse if you turn away from help.”

At that word, “prognosis,” Scrooge’s shoulders fell. He let out an exhausted sigh. “Beakley, I’ve nothing good to tell ye. It’s all over me, there’s no treating it. I cannae tell ye how long I’ve got—I’m not living the rest of my life with a blasted expiration date.” In fact, he shuddered at the thought.

“I’d expect that much from you,” she said, almost chuckling before drifting off into silence. “You know this will break your family’s hearts.”

“I know that well,” he said, looking at Beakley, truly scared. “I’m not ready.”

“You may not be ready, but you need only be willing. That’s courage.”

“Courageous I’ll be.”

She smiled. “Remember, you can come to me with anything you need,” There was a tender pause, and when she spoke again, her voice was strained. “You’re more than my employer. You’re my friend.”

Scrooge tipped his hat. “The same goes for you, Beakley.”

As Scrooge left the kitchen, Beakley stayed behind. She watched him walk through the main room, up the stairs, and out of sight. She wondered when she’d see that for the last time. 

* * *

When Scrooge knocked on the door, he was met with a loud clatter and an even louder yelp.

“Should I come back later?” he asked, his brow furrowed. 

“No! No no no no no no no,” Webby’s voice came as she pitter-pattered toward the door, swinging it open with a flourish. Scrooge could immediately see that half her belongings were covered in paint. “I’ve always got time for you, Uncle Scrooge! I was just practicing healthy self-expression.”

He glanced around with a smile. “Good, lass!” he said. He pointed to the canvas next to her bed. “I like the still life.”

“Thanks! It’s an artistic rendition of my rock collection. I’m gonna hang it up next to my rock collection so it’ll be like I have two!”

He chuckled and took a step inside. Smiling and laughing he may have been, he was nervous beyond description. “Could we have a seat on your bed?” he asked. Webby nodded and ran over, hopping up on the edge and kicking her feet. Scrooge sat down with a sigh. 

“So what’s up?” she asked, with no fear, no anxiety. Just excited to hear anything he had to say. He wished she’d always be like this. 

“Well, Webbigail, let me tell ye,” he said, bringing an arm around her shoulder. “I went to the doctor today about that fall of mine, and the fact of the matter is I’m rather ill, and I’m not going to get better.”

Webby froze completely, as if someone had pressed her pause button. When she finally moved, she looked up at Scrooge with big, worried eyes. 

“You don’t mean you’re gonna die, do you?”

A lump like a boulder formed in Scrooge’s throat. “I do, dear.” 

At first, Webby didn’t say a word. Then, she gripped onto Scrooge’s coat so tight he thought she could rip the fabric. Her eyes filled with big, heavy tears, and her mouth twisted into a grimace. “That—That’s not fair! That’s not okay!” she said. “I just got you, and I’m already gonna lose you!?”

Scrooge smoothed down her hair and held her close. “You’re not losing me, dear, you’re just seeing me later.”

“Not soon enough!” she said. “It’s gonna be so long, and I’m gonna grow so much and you’re not gonna be here to see _any_ of it!”

“If that’s the case, you’re gonna have to show me everything you can while I am here, won’tcha?”

Webby pulled back and looked around her room. “Show you everything…” she said, wonder in her eyes. She dashed to the corner and ran back with a container of haphazardly organized stones.

“Okay, so I have these in rainbow color order and then alphabetized within that. We’ll start with this cool agate I got for my birthday last year. This one’s special because it’s an undyed unicolor red—” And Webby prattled on about rocks for God knows how long, and Scrooge loved every second of it, because that smile of hers was _priceless_.

He’d never miss another chance to see it. 

* * *

“Are you sure we’re not in trouble? Because this feels like a ‘you’re in trouble’ kinda sit-down talk,” Louie said, resting his head on his hand. The triplets were lined up, sitting on the bottom bunk. Scrooge sat across from them in a not-very-adult-sized chair. 

“I promise, no punishments being passed down today,” he said. “It’s a serious discussion, is all.”

“Are we talking like a super-sized adventure or a _mega_ \- _ultra_ -super-sized adventure?” Dewey asked. Unlike either of his brothers, he was rather optimistic about this. 

“It’s not an adventure at all, Dewey. I’m here to let you know about some changes coming around the house.” Scrooge hoped for another interruption— _anything_ to put this off—but Huey waited his turn. He twisted his cane in his hands and sighed. “Y’see, we’ve found what I’m sick with, but we’ve also found there's no treatment for it.”

Huey raised his hand. 

“No need for that, lad.”

Huey lowered his hand. “Well, what exactly _are_ you sick with?”

Always the clever one, Huey Duck. Not letting Scrooge dodge out of anything. “I’m sick with cancer.”

Dewey looked halfway to an anxiety attack. “Hm, okay, so, _cancer_ ; doesn’t cancer, when there isn’t anything you can do for it, tend to, uh, kill you?”

Scrooge nodded. 

“Cool!” Dewey said, curling up into a ball. Scrooge felt his heart break, and the room fell into silence, until, 

“That’s it?” 

Everyone turned to Louie. His eyes were red and his cheeks were tear-stained, but he’d hardly made a sound. 

“You’re not gonna die adventuring, or drowning in your own hoarded wealth, you’re gonna die of _cancer_?”

Scrooge shrugged. “I suppose life’s taken a turn for the simple.”

Louie flopped back onto the bed, letting out a noise of unparalleled frustration. “That’s not—it doesn’t—I hate this!” He pulled his hood up and pulled the strings tight, leaving only his beak exposed. 

Scrooge’s face was sympathetic, if not a little pained. “Can’t say I like it myself.” 

Huey, who had been pulling at his shirt for the past minute or so, finally spoke up again. “Can I ask you one more _really_ important question?”

“Anything at all.”

“Will you promise not to leave us out of this?” 

Scrooge was taken aback. “Whaddye mean?”

“Don’t lock yourself in your room and tough it out until you die,” Louie said, still laying down. 

Dewey lifted his head to reveal his own teary face. “Yeah, Uncle Scrooge,” he said. “We wanna help you, as long as you’ll let us.” 

Scrooge looked at the kids, dumbfounded. “Curse me kilts, you boys are blessings,” he said, his voice soft and tender. Huey smiled and walked across the room, giving Scrooge an unprompted hug. With some hesitation, Dewey and Louie joined their brother. They stayed like that for a while, the boys surrounding their Uncle like a shield. 

Scrooge could hardly remember the last time he’d cried like this. 

* * *

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you two here.”

“I’m banned from the kitchen?” Della guessed.

“You’re evicting me?” Donald followed. 

That got a chuckle out of Scrooge. “No, no, nothing you two did wrong.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not this time.” And that got a laugh out of the twins. The art of the icebreaker. 

“Seriously, though, you made this sound pretty urgent,” said Della. “What’s the crisis?”

Scrooge leaned back in his chair and sighed. He took a moment to consider his phrasing. “I’ll be straight with ye. I’ve been diagnosed with cancer.”

Della and Donald stared at Scrooge, then at each other, then back at Scrooge. Donald started going red in the face. “This better not be some sick joke, or a mistake, or—”

“It’s no mistake, lad,” Scrooge said, holding up a hand. “I found out this morning. I put off telling you two because, well… I’m an old fool who didn’t wanne break your hearts.”

“Oh, it’s gonna take a _lot_ more than cancer to break Della Duck!” she said with that big grin of hers. “You focus on getting better, we’ll—”

“I’m not getting better.”

Silence. “What?” Donald and Della said in unison.

Scrooge sighed. “It’s not operable, it’s not curable. Treatment will just draw out the suffering. I want to go out with me dignity.”

Della stared for a moment, then sank back in her chair, covering her eyes with her hand. Her trembling beak was enough to tell Scrooge what she was hiding. Donald, however, sprung to his feet, fire in his eyes.

“Are you serious!? You’re telling me that you, the richest duck in the world, aren’t going to do everything you can to kick cancer to the curb? What’s gotten into you!?”

“Donald, please—”

“I! AM! NOT! _FINISHED!_ ” he shouted, waving his fists in the air before slamming them into the desk. “You’ve done a whole lot of good for this family, but in the end it’s always McDuck first, isn’t it? You’d rather pinch a penny than save your own life! Because you don’t _think_ about how much the boys need you, or how much _Webby_ needs you, or how much _we_ need you!”

“Lad, I’m a century and a half old, I cannae be here forever. You need to accept that.”

“Well maybe _you_ can accept it, but _I_ can’t! I _won’t_!” Donald said. He was huffing and puffing, his gaze darting between Scrooge and Della. “I’ll be on the houseboat. Call me if you get some sense knocked into you.” Donald stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later, Della let out the first of many strained sobs. All Scrooge could do was stare. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“I’m sure he just needs time, Uncle Scrooge,” she said. “He’ll come back, he’ll apologize, everything’ll be fine.” She paused. “As fine as it can be.”

Scrooge barely moved a muscle. “Thanks, Della,” he said, his voice coming out like a ghost. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to lie down.”

Della opened her mouth to resist, but Scrooge had already shrugged her arms away. Standing up with great effort, he made his way to bed. Della watched for a moment before realizing she wasn’t going to win him over. She sighed and headed out herself. 

“I’ll see ya tomorrow, Uncle Scrooge,” she said, smiling in spite of everything.

Again, silence.

She sighed and shut the door, heading down to her room a bit more broken than she'd been before. 

* * *

After a week, Scrooge got a cough that wouldn’t quit. It left him red in the face, gulping for breath like a fish out of water. His voice didn’t sound the same anymore. It came out thin and rubbed raw, only when necessary. 

Two weeks later, he found himself doubled over the sink and spitting up blood. It left a stain on the marble—an unfortunate reminder of the impermanence of life to all who washed their hands. 

Three weeks in and he couldn’t keep food down if he tried. It disgusted him, the act itself and the sorry-eyed sympathy that followed. It wasn’t long before his clothes hung loose on him. Beakley covered the manor's mirrors upon his request. 

On day 25, Scrooge woke up on the floor, loomed over by worried faces. Who were they? Oh, his—his family. Of course. The incident finally got him into a wheelchair, bitter tears and all. 

3 days went by and the fever started, 40°C strong. He was left in a cold sweat, shuddering and delirious. They did everything they could to comfort him, ease the pain, but nothing was strong enough. 

At 6 AM sharp on a foggy Sunday, Beakley knocked on Scrooge’s door like she had every morning for over a decade. There was no answer. She barged in to find Scrooge slumped over in bed, pulse weak and hardly breathing. Though Mr. McDuck would detest the cost, it was her executive decision to call an ambulance. 

The news came harder and faster than anyone could expect. His body was failing, they said. He was in no condition to leave the hospital. It wasn’t a matter of days, it was _hours_. 

Today was the vigil we all fear. Today was the end of an era.

Today was the last day of Scrooge McDuck’s life.


	2. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby gets a rare chance to talk with her hero alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given the tininess of this chapter, expect the next one sooner rather than later. Enjoy!

“Hey Uncle Scrooge.”

Webby sat at his bedside, feeling like she was doing something wrong. Granny had gone to meet the rest of the family in the waiting room, which meant for the first time in  _ so _ long, it was only her and Scrooge. It meant the world to her to get the chance to talk with him alone—even if he couldn’t talk back.

“I hope you’re not feeling too bad. Everyone says you’re comfortable, but I wouldn’t be if my hands were as cold as yours. I also don’t know if you can hear me, but I'll act like you can.” She paused. “Y’know what, if it’s my last chance…” She climbed into Scrooge’s bed, sitting next to him criss-cross applesauce. “I haven’t been in a lot of hospitals before. I visited my mom when she was in the hospital, but I was so young I don’t remember it. She wasn’t there for that long anyway. Oh, and you might not remember, but when I was 6 my appendix ruptured, which was scary. I had to stay in the hospital for 2 weeks, and take these gross antibiotics… yeah, it was the worst. Or, well, this is worse, because you’re dying, and I’m fine now. But it was still hard.”

She sighed and rested her head on Scrooge’s shoulder. “This is scary for me, and I know it’s even scarier for you—but I don’t think you’d ever tell me how scary. So I’ll tell you that I _ know _ you’re scared, and that it’s okay to be scared!” She wrapped her arms around him, sinking further and further into his side. “Soon a whole bunch of people are gonna be here, and we’re gonna make sure you’re not lonely or sad or anything. The triplets, Della, Launchpad, Granny, and the Sabrewings are bringing Lena and Violet! You might not care much about that, but it means a lot to me.” She paused. “And, we  _ are _ gonna try and get Donald to come. We’re gonna try as hard as we can.”

She was quiet, focused on the rise and fall of Scrooge’s chest. His face looked relaxed in a way she’d never seen it before. It was all so different, but it didn’t feel  _ wrong _ . It felt natural, and she hated it. 

“I’m trying not to think about it, but I know this could be the last chance I ever get to talk to you like this. So I should let you know…” she drifted off, squeezing Scrooge tighter as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m happy you let me be a part of your family, and I’m sad that it didn't last that long. You’re one of my favorite people in the world. You gave me a chance to do stuff I thought I’d only dream of! And I could spend the rest of my life saying thank you and it wouldn’t be enough, so I’ll just say it once and really mean it.” She screwed her eyes shut, the tears finally running down her cheeks. 

“Thank you so much.” 

She wept. She held her head to his chest and listened to the defiant sound of his heart still beating. She wished more than anything in the world that the sound would never stop. Before she knew it, it sung her to sleep like the soft beat of a drum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "How She Cares"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	3. How She Cares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Della and Scrooge were always a special kind of close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted tomorrow!

“Oh, Webbigail,” Beakley said to herself, quiet and loving as she entered the room. Della and the triplets came next, followed by Launchpad and Drake. Webby was fast asleep by Scrooge's side. She must have been exhausted. Everyone was. Beakley shook Webby’s shoulder to wake her. “We’re back, dear,” she whispered.

Webby stirred for a moment, and as soon as her eyes focused, she jumped out of the bed. “Hi you guys! I guess I got too comfortable for a second there.”

Della smiled and ruffled Webby’s hair. “Don’t sweat it Webs, it’s been a long morning.” She paused, glancing at the others before taking a seat at Scrooge’s bedside. “He’s not looking good, is he?” she said as she took his hand, rubbing a small circle into it with her thumb. “It’s not like he was fine before this, but… man, at least we could have a conversation.”

“But he could still wake up, right?” Webby said, bobbing up and down, looking to her Granny. Beakley nodded, but her face wasn’t as confident as Webby would have hoped. 

“Yes, while your uncle is on a  _ hefty _ dose of pain medication, he is responsive. We hope he’ll wake given a bit more time, but we still can’t say for sure if he will.”

Della smiled and ran her fingers through the feathers on Scrooge’s head. “I’ll give him as long as he needs if I get to hear his voice one more time,” she said. “C’mon, you old codger! You could chew me out for all I care, I miss you!”

Everyone paused for a moment, hoping against hope that Della’s words would rouse him, but nothing came. Della shrugged, still sporting a small smile. “Eh, it was worth a shot,” she said, placing both her hands on Scrooge’s. She looked back at the rest of the room. “I hope it’s alright if I talk to him for a bit?”

The triplets and Launchpad, unsettled they might've been, nodded. Everyone else seemed to understand implicitly. Della smiled and turned back to Scrooge. 

“It’s been a long time coming, huh?” she said, leaning back in her chair. “This has somehow been the shortest and longest month of my entire life. All the good went by in an instant and the bad seemed to drag on forever. And this whole time, my head’s been swimming y’know? Because I’ve been thinking about all the things I need to do, all the things I need to say. But now that it’s come down to the end, and I’ve got my last chance to get everything off my chest… I don’t care anymore. The only thing I care about is that you feel safe. And,” her voice became shaky and tense, “that you know how much I love you. I hope you can hear me say that. I hope that you can feel how hard I’m squeezing your hand right now. And even if you can’t remember my name, I hope it makes you feel a little better.” 

She kissed Scrooge on his forehead. He groaned and shivered, but didn’t wake. 

It was quiet and still.  _ Almost _ peaceful.

“I’ve gotta go,” Louie snapped, pulling up his hood and storming out of the room. Everyone looked at somebody else.

“I’ll catch up with him,” Della finally said, getting up from her chair and jogging after Louie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "I'm Out of my Element"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	4. I'm Out of my Element

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Della and Louie have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five will also be posted tomorrow! In fact, there'll be a chapter posted every day until chapter seven. Then we'll take a break. Enjoy!

It didn’t take Della long to track Louie down. He’d found a spot to sit down the hall, next to the elevators. Della sat with him.

“I know how hard this is, Louie.”

“No you don’t.”

“He’s my uncle too.”

Louie looked up at her for a moment, then turned away and sighed. “Yeah, but you’re still better at this stuff than I am.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “You’ve got the adult ability to trudge through awful things like they’re nothing. I don’t.”

“Neither does your Uncle Donald.”

Louie smirked. “Yeah, Uncle Donald. I definitely want my coping skills compared to the guy who didn’t even bother showing up.”

“Louie, this is the last time you should be looking for reasons to turn on your family.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But it's so  _ frustrating _ that we can’t actually be together right now! It feels so stupid.”

“It’s not rational, that's for sure,” she sighed. “Listen, it’s easy to lash out right now, but Uncle Donald’s hurting just as bad as we are, or worse. The problem is he doesn’t have a healthy way to handle it. He needs our support the same way Uncle Scrooge does.”

Louie nodded and leaned into Della’s side. His hood was still up, and she took that as a sign.

“Is that the only reason you left?”

His face crumpled a little as he shook his head no. “I hate seeing him like this,” he whimpered. “I know he’s like, a billion years old, but he never seemed that way until now!” 

Della nodded, squeezing Louie’s shoulder. “It’s hard to see someone who’s always been a fighter get knocked down, isn’t it?” Della could see a question biting at his tongue, and then, 

“Can you  _ promise _ me he’s not suffering?”

“What?”

Louie’s eyes were (finally) red and teary. “He looks so different, and he’s got all this stuff attached to him, and he—I don’t know if he wanted this! He didn’t wanna die miserable, right? That’s a pretty humble request, and I wanna respect it!”

Della blinked back tears and pulled Louie into a tight hug. He shook in her arms. “Louie, I promise we’re doing  _ everything _ we can to make sure this’ll be easy, alright? He's been sleeping like a baby—probably like he hasn’t slept in years.” She held Louie’s cheek and looked him in the eye. “Cross my heart and swear to die, I am not going to let him go through  _ any _ pain I can prevent. Alright?”

Louie nodded, and he couldn’t help but sniffle. Slowly, uncertainly, he pulled his hoodie down. 

“Thanks, mom.”

He rested his head on Della’s chest as she held him close to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Dewlightful Timing"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	5. Dewlightful Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does he Dewey it? I don't know!

“Well that could’ve gone worse!” Dewey said, the first to break the silence after Della and Louie’s abrupt departure. 

Beakley sighed. “There’s no wrong in having to leave the room at a time like this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not judging,” he said, climbing into the bed with total confidence (which Webby couldn’t help but admire.) “Louie puts the ‘flight’ in ‘fight or flight,’ it’s fine.” Beakley made a face, which Dewey ignored. He let one leg hang off the side of the bed and rested his elbow on the other knee, looking at Scrooge listlessly. “I’m more of a fight kinda guy.”

“So instead of running away from your problems you just lash out at everyone?” Huey said. 

Dewey looked back at him, more impressed than annoyed. “You’re really gonna call me out like that?”

Huey shrugged. “Call me the reality check triplet.”

Dewey laughed into his hand, like he was trying to keep it a secret. It felt like the only respectful thing to do given the circumstances. He turned back to Scrooge and let out a small sigh. “Yeah, I haven’t stayed as calm, cool and collected as I planned to, Uncle Scrooge,” he said, falling naturally into conversation with an unconscious partner. “I almost thought—and I know it’s silly—but I thought I was gonna  _ save _ you somehow. Like, if I  _ believe _ hard enough, cancer will stop being a thing, I don’t even know.” He brought his knees up to his chest and Huey reached out to take his hand, which Dewey accepted. “Now I’m waiting for the camera crew to pop out and tell me this was all a super unethical prank. I’m gonna be waiting for weeks. I know that’s a lot about me, but the point is I hope you can accept what’s happening better than I can. Like, you’re the one who’s actually going through the dying, right? I’m walking on sunshine compared to you! You’re the one who needs someone to hold your hand and tell you it’s gonna be okay.”

He looked back at Huey, smiled, and pulled his hand away. He placed that same hand over Scrooge’s.

“So, yeah. It’s gonna be okay.”

Scrooge took in a deep, rattling breath that resembled a snore more than anything else. There was a pregnant pause before Dewey pulled back and shrugged. “Yeah, that’s how he usually reacts to anything important I tell him.”

Webby’s face twisted. “C’mon, Dewey, don’t say stuff like that.”

Dewey all but rolled his eyes. “Webby, he’s completely zonked out on—” he attempted to read the IV bag, “—whatever crazy drug they give to dying people. He’s not waking up anytime soon, he can’t hear us.”

In exactly that moment, Scrooge’s eyes opened like creaky warehouse doors.

Dewey’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide like saucers. The same went for everyone else in the room.

A voice came from down the hallway, “Alright, crisis averted, we’re ba—”

Della froze in the doorway. 

“ _ Uncle Scrooge? _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Guess Who’s Coming to Visit"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	6. Guess Who’s Coming to Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Launchpad has something to say.

Della rushed up to Scrooge’s side, putting a hand on his cheek. A lump formed in her throat as she looked into his eyes and he looked right back at her _oh my gosh he was awake_. “Can you see me okay?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle. 

A few moments later, Scrooge nodded. Webby cheered. 

“Good! That’s good,” Della said. “Now it’s okay if you don’t, but do you remember my name?”

Another pause. “Della.” 

This time Della cheered. “Yes! Della! Awesome!” she said. By this point, the visitors had encircled the bed. There was no face without a smile, no eye without tears. Della motioned to the group. “You’ve got a lot of company.”

Scrooge took in the faces slowly, his small smile growing wider with each one he recognized. “Oh, you’ve outdone yourselves,” he said, his voice faint and hoarse, but ever so familiar. Then his eyes narrowed. He pointed a shaking hand at Drake. “Who’s this?”

Launchpad went pink in the cheeks. “Oh! Well, that’s a simple question with an obvious answer! He’s, my, uh—you see, we’re—he’s—”

“—I’m Drake Mallard, sir,” he said, placing a hand on Launchpad’s back (who relaxed immediately.) “You might remember me from…" he sighed, “the cancelled Darkwing Duck reboot your company produced? I’m Launchpad’s,” he looked up at him for approval, “partner?”

Launchpad’s eyes went wide and brimmed with tears. “Y-yeah, we are partners, Mr. McD! I, uh,” he sniffled as Drake squeezed his hand, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.”

Scrooge reacted with worry more than anything else. “McQuack, did ye think ye had to hide this from me?”

Launchpad sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. McD, I didn’t think you’d take it bad or anything, but I couldn’t risk it.” He paused. “My family’s sort of scattered ‘round the globe, because we’re all pilots, right? I get to see my sister a couple days a year and that’s it. So I’ve always thought of you guys,” he motioned around the bed, “as my Duckburg family! And you’re right at the center of it, Mr. McD. When I lose you, I lose everyone else, too.”

At that, Scrooge made a sound of pure heartbreak. He reached out a hand to Launchpad, straining himself, and Launchpad took it. “Lad, you have a _very_ special place in this family,” he said, voice trembling. “You always will.”

“You really mean that?” Launchpad asked. Scrooge needn’t answer, as everyone in the room nodded in agreement. Launchpad was dumbfounded. “Wow, that’s—that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”

“And Drake,” Scrooge said, “as long as you’re with Launchpad, you’re with us.” He offered a hand, which Drake took proudly. Frail he may have been, Scrooge McDuck still gave a mean handshake. 

Launchpad stood up straight and wiped his eyes on his sleeve one more time. “Alright, I’ve gotta go somewhere quiet and process how much I love you guys, I’ll be back soon!”

“I’ll follow ya,” Drake said, patting Launchpad on the shoulder.

They walked out together, and if only for a moment, there was more love than death in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "An Interview"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	7. An Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Huey's time to ask the questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, we're halfway there!  
> Woah-oh, livin' on a prayer!

With Launchpad and Drake out of the room, Scrooge gave the crowd one more look, and again, his brow furrowed. Della put a hand on his shoulder. “Something still wrong?” she asked. 

“Your brother?” 

Della’s blood ran chilly in her veins. There was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it grimace on her face that she shook for a sad-eyed smile. “We couldn’t get ahold of him right away,” she said, sincere as she could. “But we’re working our  _ butts _ off to get him here lickety-split, don’t you worry!”

In spite of Della’s firm conviction, Scrooge’s face only dropped. He settled back into his pillow, hands clasped. “No need to drag him kicking and screaming,” he said, wounded but not bitter. “I’ve hurt him terribly.”

Della balked. “Well y’know what, maybe Donald Duck needs to learn a lesson in forgiveness!” she said, arms crossed, sighing. “If I can get it through his thick skull.” 

Scrooge nodded, still having enough presence of mind to know this was a problem bigger than himself. He glanced to the side, and his attention was quickly grabbed by something else entirely.

“What’ve ya got there, lad?” he said, pointing at Huey, who was writing in a small spiral notepad. He looked up from his notes, did a double take, and flipped the pad shut, shoving it under his hat. “It’s nothing,” he said, a desperate look in his eyes that said “somebody, anybody, please get me out of this,” but no one did.

“Didn’t look like nothing to me,” Scrooge said, insistent as ever. “Go on, it cannae be that bad.”

Huey paused, sighed, and pulled the notepad back out. He stared down at it before clearing his throat and looking up at his uncle. “I don’t have anything I need to get off my chest, because I’ve always tried to be honest with the people in my life. But there are some things I’ve been keeping to myself, especially recently. So I decided to write them down,” he said. He rubbed his thumbs across the paper, wrinkling and smoothing it out repeatedly. “It’s the questions I haven’t asked.”

Scrooge smiled. “Want some answers?”

Huey’s bouncing switched from nervous to excited. "Yes, please." Scrooge motioned for him to go ahead. He thought over the questions on his list. “What do you think Duckburg will be like without you?”

Scrooge smiled. “Duckburg’ll be grand as ever with such a  great family protecting it.”

Huey smiled, a little embarrassed. “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge,” he said with shaky confidence. “Now, do you have any regrets?”

Scrooge gave that question some thought, but shook his head. “I’ve had my fair share of bad times, but if it all led me here, I wouldn’t change a thing.” Huey nodded, scribbling down a note in illegible shorthand.

“What’s dying like?”

Scrooge’s gaze drifted off slightly as he took in the question. “It’s scary, but that’s not all it is,” he said. “With the fear, there’s a sense of wonder. And there’s a great deal of pain, but there’s gratitude. There’s good along with the bad, even now.” He paused. “But the sadness stings. I’ve grieved, sure, but I’ve never grieved myself! And to fathom that I may never see any of you again,” his voice broke and Della laid a hand on his shoulder. He seemed completely drained.

Huey smiled through pangs of guilt. “I don’t need to ask anymore questions,” he said, closing his notepad and tucking it back under his cap. Scrooge protested, but it amounted to feeble hand gestures and hacking coughs. Della gripped his shoulder a little tighter, her other hand across his chest. 

“Yeah, how about you take a rest?” The protective instinct in her voice showed its claws—her way of saying that she  _ wouldn’t _ take no for an answer. Scrooge’s face was red from the absolute indignity of it all. It was a look Della had become quite familiar with in recent weeks, and she (mostly) knew how to defuse him. “I’m not telling you to sleep or do this or that, I’m just saying we cool down.” She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, miming with her hands. "Is that alright?”

Scrooge’s face was still angry, but he sighed and nodded in agreement. Success enough for Della Duck!

“Alright everybody take 5! Or 10, or 15, or however long you wanna take,” Della said, standing up and patting Scrooge on the shoulder once more. “No more tears, no more crying, right now we’re giving ourselves a well-earned break.”

The room dispersed like dye in water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Emotional Tower of Terror"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	8. Emotional Tower of Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly late upload—serves me right for working on Christmas! Enjoy!

When it came to the people she loved, Webby was like velcro. She stuck on and rarely let go willingly. That’s why as people came and left the room, Webby stayed. There wasn’t a lot to do, but she was good at making her own fun! She bothered the nurses with medical trivia, tried to parse what Alex Trebeak was saying on the muted TV. All she knew was that she wasn’t leaving Scrooge alone—not anytime soon. That was until her phone began vibrating. One vibration made sense—a text from one of the triplets (who were down in the cafeteria), or from Lena. But the phone kept buzzing—someone was calling her. Nobody ever called her except Granny, and she was reading by the window. So she pulled out her phone and saw—

“Dr. Gearloose?” she wondered aloud. “But he’s never called me, or texted me, or spoken to me for more than 30 seconds!” She raised an eyebrow and looked up at Scrooge, who'd fallen back asleep some time ago. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she whispered, holding her hand over his. She snuck out the door and picked up.

“Hello?”

“There! Somebody! Finally!”

“A-are you okay, Dr. Gearloose?”

“Oh, I’d be doing fine if I hadn’t been reduced to calling a  _ child I don’t know _ about important work matters!”

Webby made a face. “I don’t think anyone’s doing much work today.”

“Yeah, sure, it’s Sunday, since when has that stopped Mr. McDuck?”

“I'm sure he'd be working if he could, but the nurses would be pretty mad.”

“The nurses? What?”

“Y’know, at the hospital.”

“Hospital?!” Webby heard the distinct sound of a chair clattering over on the other end. “What hospital, why hospital—hospital?”

Webby paused. “Mr. McDuck is in the hospital, I’m sorry if nobody told y—”

“Yes, I understood you the first time, I’m asking  _ why _ .”

“…Because of the cancer?”

“ _ The  _ cancer? As in, the cancer that, I am supposed to  _ know about? _ ” Gyro’s voice was slowly rising in shrillness. 

Webby was stunned. “Oh my gosh, Dr. Gearloose, I’m so sorry, but, y-yeah, he’s—he’s sick, he’s been sick for a while, and…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“And? And!? AND!?”

She screwed her eyes shut. “He’s dying.”

For the first time in his life, Gyro Gearloose was speechless—but not for long. “Give me the name of this hospital so I can get there as fast as physically possible.”

“It’s Duckburg General, on the—the 14th floor. The room number is—”

“Excellent,” and with that, Gyro hung up.

Webby stared at the touchscreen in disbelief. 

This was a very big oopsie, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Girl Stuff"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	9. Girl Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Magic unites!

Webby didn’t know how long she’d been staring at the home screen of her phone before she heard Lena’s voice. “I didn’t think we’d see you so soon, Pink." Webby’s head shot up.

“OH MY GOSH YOU’RE HERE!” she yelled, running up and pulling Lena and Violet into a tight group hug. Lena pushed away pretty quickly, but it didn’t bother Webby. It never did. 

“How are you holding up?” Violet asked, grabbing Webby’s arm and checking her pulse. “The stress of such a traumatic event must be enormous, and I do note that your heart rate is elevated.”

“Well, it’s not that bad,” Webby said, immediately provoking an eyebrow raise from Lena. Webby continued unaffected. “It’s weird and scary and upsetting, but it also brought everybody together! And it’s nice to have a bunch of awesome people to hang out with when you’re going through something life-changing!” She shot finger guns at Lena and Violet. Neither fired back.

“It's time for you to get some fresh air,” Lena said, giving Webby that look that made her heart beat faster for some reason. Webby looked at her shoes, crossing her arms behind her back. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m kind of sick of the hospital smell,” she said. A moment later, her eyes lit up. “Oh, but we should see Uncle Scrooge first! To make sure you get to say hello, really fast, pleeeease?”

“Totally!” Lena said. Violet nodded in agreement. Webby smiled and ran to Scrooge’s room, the girls following a few feet behind her. 

“Granny, they’re here!” Webby said as she entered the room. Beakley looked up from her reading as Lena and Violet walked in. “Good afternoon, girls.”

“Good afternoon,” Violet repeated. Lena offered a small wave.

Webby hopped up onto the chair next to Scrooge’s bed, sitting like a gargoyle. “He’s asleep right now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him! He just won’t talk back until he’s awake.” Lena nodded. She was standing a few feet back and not moving any closer. Webby gave her a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, sure,” she said. She took one step forward, crossed her arms, and sighed. “It’s just super weird. I haven’t seen him since before all this happened, and he’s so different. Like, if I didn’t know this was his room, I don’t think I’d recognize him.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve had more time to get used to this,” Webby said. She hesitated before continuing. “We weren’t trying to leave you and Violet out of it or anything.”

“I understand,” Violet said. “Near the end of life, many people will limit their visitors to close friends and family. To your uncle, I’m neither of those things. I find it very meaningful that we were invited to join your family at all.”

Lena nodded. “What she said.”

Webby smiled. “Thanks for being so cool, you guys.” 

“Don’t mention it, Pink.” She looked down at Scrooge, adjusting her collar and clearing her throat. “So, do I just say stuff, or…?”

“Kinda! You let him know your here,” she grabbed Scrooge’s hand, “and then you tell him whatever you want!” Webby offered his hand to Lena. “Wanna try?”

Lena hesitated, but took Scrooge’s hand in hers. “Hey, Mr. McDuck. It’s Lena, Webby’s friend. I’m, uh… sorry that you’re dying. That’s not great.” She paused. “I guess if I wanna say anything, it’s thank you? Because, man, you have no reason to let me into your home. Like, I’m the shadow of your greatest enemy, that’s super messed up, right? But you welcomed me like it didn’t mean anything, and you treated me like a normal person. That’s super cool, and it means a lot to me. So, yeah. Thanks.”

Lena looked to Webby, whose eyes were glistening. “You did so good!” she said, clasping her hands to her heart. 

Violet clapped. “Beautifully expressed,” she said, making her way between Webby and Lena. “Could I request a moment to share my thoughts?” Lena nodded and gave Violet Scrooge’s hand. She began thusly, “Mr. McDuck, you are one of the most interesting people in the world. Your collection of magical artifacts is unparallelled, and it’s been an honor to see it in person. I respect you a great deal, and you’ve made an indelible mark on the world and our lives. I will miss you not only as my best friend’s beloved uncle, but as a person. Thank you for everything.” With that, she placed Mr. McDuck’s hand back on the bed.

“Okay, now  _ that _ was beautifully expressed,” Lena said. Webby wiped her eyes and nodded.

“I simply stated my feelings given the circumstances, but I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Violet said. “Now, would you two like to explore the hospital garden?”

Lena shrugged. “Sure!”

Webby bounced off her chair, hands up in the air. “Double sure!”

They left together, smiling, laughing, and the world didn’t feel so grim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "I Can’t Breathe"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	10. I Can’t Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louie's not done just yet—and a little more.

The triplets came in like they always did, rambunctious, all over each other, loud and happy. Della herded them in from behind. 

“Where’d Webby go?” Dewey asked.

“Outside with Lena and Violet. They’ll be back soon,” Beakley answered.

“Aw, we just missed ‘em!” He said. He looked back at Huey and Louie and shrugged. “Better luck next time.”

Louie cleared his throat, getting the room’s attention. “Does anyone mind if I sit in the hot seat?” he said, pointing to the chair next to Scrooge’s bed. There was a pause before Della answered, “I don’t see why not!”

Louie smiled out of obligation and took his seat. He sighed, reaching hesitantly to his uncle’s shoulder. It felt bony and small in his hands, and he wanted  _ so _ desperately to pull away—but he didn’t.

“Hey, Uncle Scrooge,” he said. “Can you hear me?”

The expected silence was followed by an  _ un _ expected groan as Scrooge blinked awake. Now, Louie did pull back. 

“Oh, I—I didn’t mean to wake you up, honest,” he said, pressing himself back and down into the chair. “You can go back to bed, I’ll be quiet.”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes. “Louie?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” He sounded almost ashamed. 

Scrooge smiled. “Always good to see Louie Duck.”

At that, Louie sat up a little straighter. “Uh, yeah, sure it is!” he said. A pause. He could hear the blood rushing to his head as he clenched his fists.  “I’m sorry.”

Scrooge furrowed his brow. “What for?”

Louie let out a small sob before getting a word out. “I don’t know, everything?” he said. “The whole time I’ve known you, I’ve been—I’ve kind of been the worst, okay? I took you for granted, I took my brothers for granted, my friends for granted—I took Mom and Uncle Donald for granted! I still do! Because something’s wrong with me! I have this thing inside me that makes me lazy and stupid and bad, and every time I try to stop it, it gets stronger! And it feels like I never got to show you how good I can be, and I never got to show that, yeah, I care about you a  _ lot _ !” He threw his hands up in the air. “And that’s it. There’s nothing I can do about it, and there’s no time left to change anything. I messed it all up, the end. So I’m sorry.” Louie was almost out of breath—never before had he vented his emotions so thoroughly.

The look on Scrooge’s face made him regret it. It was a look of sadness, heartbreak, horror even. Deep shame welled up in Louie’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Not another apology out of your mouth,” Scrooge said, his voice sharp like a whip, serious as ever. He was taking quick, shaking breaths, and it took everything Louie had not to apologize for that too. In the brief silence that followed Scrooge’s admonition, Della came up and squeezed Louie’s shoulder. Huey and Dewey stood on either side of their brother. 

“Lad, you’ve had bumps in your road, I know that well,” Scrooge said. “But I don’t judge you for it, and I know you’re a talented young man. I know that you want to do right by your kin.”

Scrooge reached out and Louie took his hand, almost fearful. Scrooge squeezed it tight. 

“You’ve made me a very proud man, and a very loved man. I’m thankful for that. You don’t have a thing to be sorry for.”

Louie looked at Scrooge blankly. Then, in an instant, he dove into Scrooge’s arms, sobbing like a baby. “I love you Uncle Scrooge,” he said, and he repeated it, over and over again, because he could  _ never  _ say it enough times. 

“Can’t breathe,” Scrooge choked out, prompting Louie to jump back. Scrooge caught his breath and gave Louie a tired smile. “Can we try a bit gentler?”

Louie wiped his eyes, smiled back, and nodded. He carefully hugged Scrooge, and Scrooge hugged back. They held each other close and they didn’t let go. 

All was quiet, save for the occasional sniffle. All was peaceful. All was—

“Hey, Gizmoduck!” Huey said, pointing out the window. Indeed, in the city skyline, you could see Duckburg’s hero. Huey and Dewey ran up to the window, pressing their faces against it. 

“Is that—wait, is he holding Gyro?” Dewey said, furrowing his brow.

_ That _ got Della’s attention. She joined the boys at the window. “Yeah, that is Gyro, isn’t it?” 

Louie looked up and couldn’t help but notice, “Doesn’t it kinda look like he’s coming… at us?”

The room nodded in near-unison as the hero duck approached, stopping about ten feet back from the window. He and Gyro were having some sort of conversation, and not a pleasant one at that. Gyro repeatedly poked Gizmoduck in the chest as he spoke, and Gizmoduck seemed… pleading. He heaved a visible sigh and motioned toward the Duck family gathered at the window. 

“Does he wants us to move?” Della said. She took her arms around Huey and Dewey and stepped back, all the way back, until she reached Scrooge’s bed. Gizmoduck gave her a hesitant thumbs up. 

“What in Dismal Downs are they doing?” Scrooge asked.

“I couldn’t tell ya,” Della answered.

When it did happen, it happened so fast no one could stop it. Gizmoduck wound up and—

“Oh my gosh he’s gonna throw Gyro through the window.”

0.4 seconds later, the twink was hurled like a football, broken glass exploding out as he tumbled to the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Like a Father"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	11. Like a Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Science gets their chance to speak.

“Hi Launchpad! Hi Mr. Mallard!”

Their gazes turned to the hospital entrance just in time to see Webby sprinting at them. With little to no warning, she grabbed them around the legs and pulled them into a strange but loving group hug. 

“Y’know, you can call me Drake if you want.”

Webby looked up at him wide-eyed. “I can?”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone calls me!”

“Okay Drake!” she said, bouncing in place as she said his name. “You didn’t get to see them yet, so I’m very excited to introduce you to,” she swung her arms behind her, “my best friends!”

No one was there. A pause.

“I ran too far ahead of them, one second.” Webby went back out the door and returned a moment later with Lena and Violet in hand. She gave them a sheepish look. “Sorry guys.”

“Don’t worry, Pink,” Lena said, pulling her hand away. She pointed at Drake. “Is this the new boyfriend you can’t stop talking about it?”

Webby slowly turned back to Drake, the sheepish expression only intensifying. “I get… excited about new people.”

Drake laughed, and Webby relaxed. “Don’t worry, I do too,” he said. He looked to Lena and offered a friendly handshake. “Hi, I’m—”

“Drake Mallard?” she said, taking his hand between her thumb and forefinger and shaking. She smiled, genuine enough. “Yeah, I’m Lena.”

Violet edged in and took Drake’s hand out of Lena’s. Her handshake was firmer than Scrooge's. “And I’m Violet Sabrewing, very glad to meet you, I like your shirt.”

Drake paused a moment to gather himself, but made sure to smile. “Thanks, Violet. And, uh, good to meet you two!” 

Webby’s smile could light up Duckburg. “Awesome! Now we’re all friends!” She ran up behind Violet and Lena and pulled them together. “But you guys are still my  _ best _ friends.”

Launchpad cleared his throat. “Hey, Webby and Webby’s friends, are you going back up to see Mr. McD?” Webby nodded. “Drake and I are too! We can go together!”

Webby pumped her fists in the air. “Yeah!” Lena and Violet smiled and nodded. They entered the elevator together, up to the 14th floor, headed down the hallway and into Scrooge’s room—only to stop short in the doorway.

Where there was once a large window overlooking Duckburg, there was now a tarp, swaying in the breeze. Gyro Gearloose was at Scrooge’s bedside, a nurse bandaging his arm. His feathers were stained red. The rest of the guests were flush to the wall while a janitor finished cleaning up the broken glass on the floor. 

“W-what happened?” Webby asked.

Gyro looked over his shoulder. “Oh, pink girl and company,” he said. “I got here as fast as physically possible, like I said I would.”

“Did you also tell her you were going to commit thousands of dollars in property damage?” the nurse said, monotone.

Gyro rolled his eyes. “I’m a scientist, that’s a given.” The nurse rolled her eyes right back. 

Webby was reduced to sputtering. Lena rested her hand on Webby’s shoulder in a rare act of physical contact. It certainly quieted Webby down—and turned her beet red. 

Launchpad went to speak, but was interrupted by someone running into his back. He turned around to find—

“Oh, hey Fenton! Funny you’re here, because Gyro’s here too! Guess he flew through a window or something, I dunno.”

“Not on his own, he got thrown through it by Gizmoduck.” He paused. “Which I know for a good reason—because I was outside. I was outside, and I watched it happen. Yes.”

Launchpad raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you don’t have to lie, I know that you’re—”

Fenton jumped up and grabbed him by the beak, clamping it shut. He pointed to Drake, Lena, Violet, Della, Louie, Beakley, and the nurse in quick succession. He then pointed back at himself and wagged a finger. Launchpad’s eyebrow stayed raised. Fenton sighed. “They don’t know, Launchpad!” he whispered. Launchpad thought for a moment before realization washed over his face. He gave Fenton a thumbs up. Fenton sighed again, but with relief, and finally let go.

The janitor finished his cleaning, and the nurse finished her bandaging. They left, and the motley crew gathered in the doorway entered. 

“Now, Gyro, you do know I’m not paying for that stunt?” Scrooge said, pointing at the former window. Gyro waved his hand.

“Of course, I have enough in savings to cover a little window, don’t even worry about it,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he turned to the rest of the room. “You all, however—” he stood up, a manic smile on his face, “are  _ dead _ to me!”

Everyone—save for Webby—looked at each other confused. This only seemed to make Gyro angrier.

“None of you know? None of you know the  _ suffering _ you’ve put me through?” Heads shook, and Gyro facepalmed. “None of you thought for a  _ second _ that there was  _ someone _ that you should tell about all this?”

Beakley was the first whose face dawned with horror. “Oh, Dr. Gearloose, did—did no one tell you we were here?”

“Not until I called  _ that one _ —” he pointed to Webby “—did anyone seem to consider that I'd want to know about this!  _ Any _ of this!  _ No one told me he had cancer! _ ”

Scrooge gasped, then his face turned to match Gyro’s anger. “I—I—Beakley, did I not tell you to inform everyone at the bin!?”

And now Beakley was mad. “You will  _ not _ blame me for this!” she turned to Gyro. “Who’s the one who wouldn’t let me into his laboratory?”

Gyro crossed his arms. “I hardly know you, our being coworkers doesn’t mean I should trust you in my workspace.”

“I am not your coworker, Gyro—”

“That is  _ Dr. Gearloose _ to you—”

“The girls are fiiiiiiiightiiiiiiing!” Lena called. It got a laugh out of Dewey, Louie, and no one else—but it did shut everyone up for a second.

“Listen…  _ Dr. _ Gearloose. You wouldn’t let me in, so I told Quackfaster to tell you.” Gyro looked at the ceiling, his face twisted into a scowl. “And you didn’t let her in either, did you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

Scrooge sighed. “Gyro, let’s not pass out blame. We all had a part in this, and it all led to a… a wild miscommunication—”

“Non-communication,” Gyro corrected.

Scrooge sighed. “…Non-communication. And you were the victim of it. I’m sorry.”

Gyro looked at Scrooge, arms still crossed. Those facing him could see his fingers digging into his bandages, bringing more red to the surface. “I—I’d rather not make you apologize,” he said. His voice was shaking, and Scrooge was frankly shocked. 

“Gyro, are you alright?”

He screwed his eyes shut. “Of course I’m not alright!” he said, his voice coming out through one long sob. He immediately took off his glasses and covered his face with his hands, like he didn’t want anyone to see. Nobody  _ had _ seen this before, after all. 

“Oh, lad,” Scrooge said, the pain in his heart coming out through his voice. “Come now, sit back down.”

Gyro nodded, obedient for the first time in his life. He walked to the chair and sat down like a machine. It looked like he was doing everything in his power to keep himself upright. 

“I never would’ve thought you’d be so affected by this,” Scrooge said, apologetic. 

Gyro sniffled and crossed his arms. “That’s not an accident,” he said. “My entire personality is based around making sure people don’t know I care—or feel anything but annoyance. Now, that is true for the most part, don’t get me wrong, but there are things I keep to myself.”

“Like this?” 

Gyro nodded. “Like this.” He paused and sighed. “Listen, Mr. McDuck, there’s no… comfortable way to say this, so I’m just going to close my eyes and say it as fast as I can, alright?” Scrooge nodded, and like he said, Gyro shut his eyes and—

“I have no loving family of my own and thus I always viewed you as the father figure I lacked and I have always cared about your wellbeing and valued your personal and professional opinion of me,” he said in one breath, no pauses. He opened his eyes, and his face immediately dropped when he saw that Scrooge did not exactly seem happy. “This was a huge mistake,” he said, almost standing up to leave before—

“Come here,” Scrooge said, opening his arms. Gyro stared. “…I said come here.” It still took Gyro a few seconds to realize.

“Oh! Oh, you want me to. To…” he leaned over the bed, pulling Scrooge into the least comfortable hug anyone had ever given. 

Scrooge smiled. “You can do better than that.”

Gyro made a face and tightened his grip, taking his hug from “what?” to “okay, I guess!”

“That’s good, lad. You can let go whenever you’re rea—”

Gyro let go immediately, sat back down, and cleared his throat. He was shaking like a leaf. 

“I won’t push ya, but if ya need to shed a few more tears—”

Gyro buried his face in his hands again, his sobs muffled. He had a way of beating Scrooge to the punch, didn’t he? 

“I’m not ready. I am not even the slightest bit ready to lose you. This is completely incomprehensible, unacceptable, and yet unstoppable and—oh!” Gyro said, breaking off into further tears. 

Scrooge nodded, his face sad but understanding. “I don’t expect ye to accept any of this quickly.” 

“No, no, I’m not going to accept any of this  _ ever _ .”

“Well, I do expect that from ye.”

Gyro gestured wildly. “How!? How on  _ Earth _ am I supposed to come to terms with this? This is  _ almost _ the most traumatic thing I have experienced to date, and I spent my childhood in a  _ garden shed _ , I—I ate  _ table scraps! _ ”

Scrooge blinked. “What?”

“Nothing! Everything’s fine!” Gyro said, the most pained smile this side of Calisota plastered to his face. Scrooge reached out a hand, and Gyro held up his. “No more touching, please.” It was a humble request, and Scrooge honored it. Gyro sighed. “Alright, I don’t want to take too much time away from your family, so—”

“You  _ are _ family.”

“…Could you repeat that?”

“You’re family.”

Gyro cracked a smile, tears welling up—happy tears. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t hearing things,” he said as he wiped his eyes. He took a long breath in and a longer one out. “I never thought this would happen. You’ve made my world.”

“I only wish it would’ve happened sooner.” 

Gyro nodded in agreement, melancholy, but no longer so broken, so hopeless. “Now, I don’t think I can make this hug thing work but, uh… could I… tell you that I love you like a father?”

“Thatcha may.”

Gyro stared for a moment. It was like he expected every question he asked to be answered with a hard no—he needed time to process any positive responses. 

“Okay, well. Uh. Mr. McDuck—”

“Scrooge is fine.”

Gyro let out the smallest of gasps. “…then, Scrooge. You’re the father I never had, and I deeply love and care for you.”

Scrooge smiled. “And I care deeply for you too, ya rapscallion researcher.”

Gyro held his hands over his heart, closed his eyes, smiled, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Glad I got that off my chest. If you excuse me I have to call some other members of the Gearloose family and gloat. Be back soon!” he said as he unceremoniously stood up and walked out the door—only to pause the moment he stepped out. “What are  _ you two _ doing here?”

There was an incomprehensible clopping, which everyone immediately recognized as—

“Manny!”

Fenton ran out and pulled the headless man-horse in by the hoof. Lil’ Bulb scurried in after them. Gyro stared for a moment before sighing and continuing out. 

“Mr. McDuck, I'm sorry that it took us a while to get ourselves together, but us lab workers have something to tell you.” He looked out the door and furrowed his brow. “Uh, Dr. Gearloose is included in ‘us lab workers,’ even though he left. Now, Lil’ Bulb, would you like to do the honors?” Lil’ Bulb nodded and climbed up Fenton’s leg—something that was both a frequent and unwanted occurrence. He reached into Fenton’s bag and pulled out—

“A card?”

“Yep!” Fenton said. “A homemade card!”

Lil’ Bulb jumped onto the bed and extended the card to Scrooge. He took it, albeit apprehensive. He hadn’t interfaced with the little guy much, but he was harmless, right? He tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. 

On the front was a crude drawing of Fenton, Gyro, Manny, and Lil’ Bulb. On the inside, a drawing of Scrooge in an anatomically correct heart. “MR. MCDUCK IS A GREAT BOSS!” was written in childlike handwriting around it. On the other side of the card were the signatures of each member of the team. Manny’s was a hoofprint, Lil' Bulb's was illegible, and Fenton and Gyro’s had the same handwriting. Scrooge looked at Lil’ Bulb, who was standing with his chest out and hands on his hips, and then up at Fenton.

“He drew everything himself,” Fenton mouthed. Scrooge smiled.

“This,” he said, looking down at Lil’ Bulb and pointing at the front of the card, “is fantastic.”

Lil’ Bulb lit up—literally. Scrooge covered his eyes and laughed, then looked back to Manny and Fenton. “You three make a great card—and a great team,” he said. 

“IF I MAY,” Manny clopped. There was a pause, and Scrooge motioned for him to continue. “IT’S HARD TO FIND WORK AS A HEADLESS MAN-HORSE IN THIS CAPITALIST SOCIETY, BUT YOU HIRED ME WITHOUT JUDGMENT. I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR KINDNESS AS LONG AS I LIVE.”

“And I’ll never forget you, Manny.”

Lil’ Bulb tugged on Scrooge’s sheets to get his attention. When Scrooge looked at him, he climbed onto his torso and flopped down, arms outstretched. It took Scrooge a second to recognize the gesture as a hug. He patted Lil’ Bulb on the back—the closest he could come to a hug back without almost crushing him. Lil’ Bulb’s glow softened and hummed. 

After some time had passed, Fenton pried Lil’ Bulb off of Scrooge and placed him on Manny’s shoulder. “How about you two head down to the lobby, and I’ll meet you there in a minute, okay?”

Manny clopped in the affirmative and Lil’ Bulb waved goodbye as they headed out. The moment they rounded the corner out the door, Fenton let out a long sigh. He looked back at Scrooge with a weight on his shoulders that didn’t seem to have been there before. 

“Mr. McDuck, I, uh—I need to speak with you. On behalf of Gizmoduck.”

Scrooge smirked. “He couldn’t speak to me himself? He was just here!” he said, pointing at the broken window and giving Fenton a look. Fenton smiled nervously.

“Yes, well, he—he couldn’t stick around for long! Very busy, that Gizmoduck is,” he said. He cleared his throat. “But, he’s only got one question to ask you, so I won’t be long. He, uh, he wanted to ask… he wanted to ask if you felt he was ready to take care of Duckburg alone.”

Scrooge gave Fenton a serious look. Fenton gulped.

“You tell that Gizmoduck that he was _born_ _ready_.”

Immediately, Fenton looked refreshed—like a new man, even. “I’ll tell him that right away! Thank you so much!” he said. 

He ran out the door, and a few seconds passed before—

“So he’s Gizmoduck, right?” Della asked.

“Yerp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Last Ones Out"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	12. Last Ones Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beakley doesn't sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter every day until the fic ends!

Day eased into night, as did Scrooge McDuck. With each hour, something changed, something faded. His breathing became labored, as did his speech. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The gaps between his conscious moments grew longer and longer—he hadn’t opened his eyes since half past 7. It was around 10 when the gathered family agreed to call it a night, to the extent they could. They dispersed throughout the building, finding places to make themselves comfortable. All except Beakley.

She wasn’t alone in her watch. Brave Webbigail insisted on staying in the room, but she was curled up against the wall and snoring in no time. For the first time since 6 AM, it was just Beakley and Scrooge—except this time there was no emergency. There was no adrenaline rushing through her. There was only silence. The waiting game.

She sat by Scrooge’s bedside, watching his chest rise and fall, his face twitch. She searched for any sign of distress or discomfort. After all, more than she was the caretaker of Scrooge McDuck’s home, she was the caretaker of Scrooge McDuck himself. Oftentimes it was a thought she held with scorn, but tonight it was soft and heartfelt. 

“I hope you’re sleeping well,” she finally muttered, the darkness and quiet forcing the words out of her. “I’m sure nobody else is. Even if they had a comfortable place to sleep, they’re all ready to run up here at a moment’s notice. For your sake.” She brushed her hand over his, and he mumbled something in his sleep. She smiled. “You know, you’re the first major loss I’ve faced down in quite some time. I haven’t held a vigil like this since… well, when my daughter was in hospital.” She had to pause a moment before continuing. “We lost her rather suddenly. There was only three hours from when I got the news to when she took her last. Yours is the first long illness I’ve experienced, and I quite prefer it to sudden tragedy. I’ve always been one for preparedness, and I’ve appreciated the time.” Again, she paused. “I’ve appreciated all the time, actually. All the time I’ve spent with you. That Webbigail spent with you. You’ve had a  _ great _ impact on our lives, and I would say it’s all been for the better.”

She picked up his hand and squeezed. “So thank you, Scrooge. Truly.”

The squeeze elicited a small groan from him, and a moment later, his eyes opened. Beakley’s eyes widened in turn. “Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“Where’s Donald?” Scrooge said, his voice coming like a curse out of a dusty treasure chest as he gripped Beakley by her arm, hands shaking.

“I—I don’t know where Donald is—Scrooge, are you alright?”

“Bentina, you need to find Donald,” he said, so earnestly pleading with her, eyes full of tears. “I know he’s cross, but I need to see him, he needs to get here soon.”

“Why, is—is something wrong? Is your pain worse, your breathing?”

“I can’t die with him thinking I didn’t care. I cannae leave him like that, I’ll never rest and neither will he!” 

She felt a lump forming in her throat as she ran her hand over Scrooge’s cheek, hoping it might soothe him. “We’re going to get him here as soon as we can, we have time.”

Scrooge shook his head, the tears in his eyes finally running down his face. “No time” was all he could stammer as he gasped for breath, sinking back into his pillow. He’d already worn himself ragged. It broke Beakley’s heart.

“I need you to keep your strength, dear,” she said, her voice soft. Slowly, Scrooge’s breathing evened out, his shoulders relaxing. “Now I’m going to step outside and make a few calls, and I’ll make sure we get Donald here as soon as possible. I’ll move heaven and earth. Meanwhile,” she pulled Scrooge’s covers up, “you’re going to rest and stay well until he gets here. Understood?”

Scrooge barely nodded, his eyes already closing. Part of Beakley wished she could’ve gotten a more sure response out of him, but in the end, she was just glad he seemed peaceful. Once she heard a snore, she stood up from her chair and left the room.

Beakley picked her brain for anyone who could help her with such a strange mission—get Donald Duck. Any old S.H.U.S.H. contacts, friends, enemies even? She paced the hallway, trying to create some semblance of a plan. And when things were starting to seem hopeless—

“Outta my way, Mrs. B!”

There was literally only one person in the world who sounded like that. 

“Wait, Donald!?” she said, turning around to see— “What on Earth happened to you?

Donald was charging her like a raging bull. His clothes were caked in dirt and blood, and he sported a black eye and a busted beak. “Don’t even ask!” he said as he blew past her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He turned to face her, his good eye  _ wild _ with conviction. 

“ _ I’m going to see my uncle. _ ”

He entered Scrooge’s room and slammed the door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "Saying the Unsaid"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	13. Saying the Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting! I will try to get the last chapter out early tomorrow.

As the door slammed against the wall, Scrooge and Webby awoke with gasps. They stared, first in silence, and then, “I should go,” Webby said, getting to her feet and scampering past Donald and out the door. 

So there they were. Just Scrooge and Donald. 

“You’re here,” Scrooge said, his voice quiet. Donald crossed his arms. 

“Yeah, and it almost got me killed,” His voice was angry, but it lacked its usual edge. “I’ve been trying to get here for hours.”

“I can tell you’ve had some trouble.”

Donald forced a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve still gotta call my insurance about… well, a couple things,” he said. He scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. “Listen, Uncle Scrooge, I… I did come here for a reason.”

“That is?”

“I need to tell you I’m sorry.”

Scrooge stared a moment. “What?”

“I’m sorry!” Donald said, his voice bursting out with a sob as he ran to Scrooge’s bedside, falling to his knees. “I almost ruined our family all over again! And over what? One little disagreement? After everything that’s happened, I’m gonna let that be the straw that breaks the camel’s back?” He dropped his head into his hands, resting his elbows on the bed. “I’ve been a real dummy, haven’t I? And look how long it took me to realize it!”

“Oh, Donald,” Scrooge said, his voice breaking. “I wanted to say the same to you.”

Donald looked up at him, shocked. “You did?”

Scrooge nodded. “My heart’s been aching for you, lad, but I didn’t do anything about it. I let you stew on your own, I waited for you to come to me. To think the good it could’ve done us if I’d reached out when you needed me!” He let out a small groan, like the thought wounded him. Donald reached out and took Scrooge’s hand—Scrooge could barely grab back. “I just sent Beakley out to find you. Look how long it took  _ me _ to realize what a fool I’ve been!”

Donald gave a tear-stricken laughed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Look at us, a coupla grown ducks blubbering because we didn’t have the brains to talk to each other!”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from us,” Scrooge said, smiling with a sigh. As sickly as Scrooge looked, Donald swore he could see the age lift from his face. He had a look of satisfaction that many people only dream of. Donald could  _ not _ say the same for himself. 

“It’s not gonna be easy for us,” Donald said. “Without you.”

Scrooge looked sympathetic. “I wish I never had to go.”

“The boys are gonna be wrecks. Della’s gonna have a  _ total _ meltdown,” he said. He paused, then chuckled. “And I don’t even  _ know _ what I’m gonna do.”

“I can tell ya one thing.” Scrooge said. “You’ll all stay together.”

Donald’s beak scrunched up in skepticism.

There was a moment’s pause, and then, like it took everything in him, Scrooge gave Donald’s hand a firm squeeze. 

“I'm sure of it.”

Donald stared down as his hand went limp a moment later, Scrooge taking in a long, shaking breath. Donald squeezed back, much gentler than he often would. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

Scrooge coughed, choking out as he did, “I’m more than worn enough,” 

“You’re not quitting on me, are you?”

“Oh, no. Death takes me fighting, lad, or my name isn’t—” he was cut off by another hacking cough and twisted his face into a scowl. “…Scrooge McDuck.”

Donald nodded, and there was a long pause—a silence between two people who  _ needed _ sound. It was just as Scrooge opened his mouth to speak that—

“Do you think I’ll be enough for the kids?”

“Do I  _ what _ ?”

Donald sighed, turning his eyes to the ground. “Ever since they got their Uncle Scrooge, I’ve taken a back seat. And it’s fine! I appreciate the occasional quiet! But if you’re gone, and all they’ve got is Uncle Donald… I don’t think I stack up! I wanna be the kind of uncle you were to me when I was their age! How am I supposed to compare?”

Scrooge paused, then—somehow—laughed. “Donald, you’ve got it all wrong,” he said. He nudged Donald to look him in the eye, and reluctantly, he did. “When I’m gone, the last thing they’ll need is a replacement. They’ll need  _ you _ . You, your sister, Beakley, Launchpad, all you grown ones have to be pillars of strength for the wee ones. You’re about the strongest duck I’ve met in all my days— _ well _ cut out for the challenge.” 

Donald’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“ _ Yes _ , Donald,” Scrooge said. “I’ve  _ always _ thought that of you, and it pains me to know I’ve made you think otherwise.”

Donald opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut just as quickly, his eyes brimming with tears. “I love you, ya old codger.”

“And I love you, Donald.”

Donald sobbed, pulling Scrooge into the sort of hug that was reserved for occasions like this. When all was lost. 

Scrooge gripped the back of Donald’s shirt, whispering those same words over and over again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Minutes passed, and his grip loosened, until his arms fell to the bed. Donald didn’t even  _ think _ of letting go. 

He wasn’t sure how long it’d been when the knock came at the door. 

“Come in,” he said. The door creaked open and he turned to see Della. And the triplets, and Webby, and Beakley, and Launchpad, and Gyro, and—

“You’re all here?”

Della nodded, tears in her eyes. “I don’t think you know how bad we’ve been missing you, Donnie.”

He smiled and looked at Scrooge. “I know how much one guy was missing me.” 

Della’s face shifted, the concern weighing her down once again. There was never too much time to enjoy the moment. “How’s he doing?” she asked. Donald laid Scrooge back down in bed, and Della smoothed the thin feathers on his head. 

“He’s still kicking. I got to talk to him a few minutes before he fell asleep,” Donald said. “More than I expected, less than I hoped.” 

“Ain’t that just the way,” Della said with a small laugh.

Then there was quiet. Della looked down at Donald, and Donald looked up at Della. Before you knew it they were in each other’s arms crying like newborns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of Next Chapter: "The Death of Scrooge McDuck"
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


	14. The Death of Scrooge McDuck

Midnight. 

“Hello tomorrow.” Webby read the clock upside-down as she sat in her chair, head on the seat and feet dangling over the back. She glanced to Scrooge. “Hear that Uncle Scrooge? You get to say you’re one day older!”

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. Webby yawned.

“You know you can go back to bed whenever you want, dear,” Beakley said. Webby crossed her arms.

“Oh yeah? And when are  _ you guys _ gonna go to bed?”

Beakley looked at Della and Donald, who looked at Launchpad and Drake, who looked at Gyro, who looked at the ground. Webby scoffed.

“Yeah, I thought so. I’m staying up too,” she said. She looked to the triplets and made a sweeping motion around them. “ _ We’re _ staying up.”

Beakley eyed the twins suspiciously. Huey and Dewey’s faces were set with determination, and Louie was, well, Louie. “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re up for this?”

Louie stretched and yawned. “Not sure, but willing to find out.”

“Well enough,” she said. 

A moment of silence followed, and Webby looked to Scrooge. If he’d looked different over the past month, she was  _ shocked _ by how different he looked in the past  _ hour _ . The way his eyes were sunken, his mouth hanging open, his body still beside the slight rise and fall of his chest. His fingers were a very sickly shade of gray-blue, which she would  _ not _ accept as normal, not in a million years. In spite of her most logical mind, she couldn’t begin to accept that this was the end of her hero. 

Not until she had to stare death in the face and watch it walk away with him.

* * *

There was the vast emptiness. A sub-basement of the mind that remained unexplored by those who had lived to tell the tale. Then, there was light. Soft light, light that glowed with purpose. It grew brighter, until it consumed the darkness and the door ripped from its hinges and  _ she _ entered. 

Scrooge McDuck stirred. The room was empty, and somehow, he knew the world was too. Empty except for him and—

“Magica DeSpell!?” Scrooge shouted, clutching the railings of his bed. His vision tunneled around her as she drew in closer. Her skin was like emeralds, her eyes like shattered glass. She was  _ powerful _ . She was the woman he had fought and loved fighting.

“So I am,” She said, her voice coming out thick and sweet, like it always had. She held her staff—it was  _ there _ , it was  _ whole _ , it was  _ hers _ —under Scrooge’s chin and _ pressed _ . He whimpered. “Oh, Scroogie, it pains me to see you in this state. A ghost of your former self. I’ve always respected you; I’ve sought you for a reason. For one like you, death does not deserve to come slow and painful in the night.” 

She pushed in further, purple light and mist flooding the room like blood. 

“Death deserves to be the  _ height _ of your honor!”

The light flashed to white, and in an instant—

Scrooge took a breath in, and it was deep and full and lovely, and he felt more awake than he had in weeks. He clutched at his chest. He felt strength roaring through his veins, meat on his bones. The pain was gone. The pain was gone! He stood, and his legs kept his weight. He stared up at Magica. “Bless me bagpipes, DeSpell, you’ve made me a new man,” he said, his voice breathy. “But how? Why? After you lost your powers?”

“There is more power in life than there is in all the magic in the world,” she said, sweeping her hand above her head. “And it has granted me the chance for a  _ final battle _ .” She slammed her staff into the ground with deafening force. The room shook and groaned like a hurt living thing, it warped and bent. The world outside became not hospital, but morphing inky blackness. 

Magica offered Scrooge her hand. Slowly, he took it. She led him out and into,

“The very core of your being!” she declared, her voice booming in the void. Before them floated a golden ball of energy, a constantly changing mass that radiated heat and light. “Every memory, every adventure, every utterance of your name is here, at the center of your world.”

She turned back to Scrooge, dropping his hand and gripping the staff in both of hers.

“I have come to snuff it out.”

Scrooge was agape. “But why?”

“Because I am Magica DeSpell,” she said, rising above the light like a goddess. “And because you are Scrooge McDuck, you will stop me.”

“Stop you I will, you Vesuvian villainess!”

* * *

Della was at Scrooge’s side, whispering conversation with her brother, when he let out a small groan. She stopped mid-sentence and turned to him, her brow furrowed. 

“You okay?” she muttered, resting her hand across Scrooge’s chest. There was that faint, sick cracking sound when he breathed. She could feel it shaking in the weak pulls of his chest, in and out. Every part of him was under strain, and she  _ wished _ there was some way she could lighten the load. To make this easier. 

“We’re all here for you. Nobody’s leaving,” she said as she laid her head over his heart. The beat was weak and unsteady. Her fists clenched. “Nobody’s leaving.”

It didn’t take Donald long to realize they wouldn’t get back to their conversation.

* * *

Scrooge ran past the core, keeping his eyes on Magica as he looked for something,  _ anything _ to get him up to her. The space seemed to grow as he moved, paths twisting and turning—and eventually ending at a craggy wall. He grinned as he hooked his cane in a crevice and began the climb up. 

“You knew it could never be that easy, right Scroogie?” Magica said, holding a hand to her cheek as she aimed her staff in Scrooge’s direction. It glowed, and around him, cold black tendrils pulled from the wall—shadows!

“These are old tricks, DeSpell,” Scrooge said, straining against the shadowy forces. It was a struggle, but he yanked his left arm from the mass, then his right, and grabbed back onto the wall. He pulled as hard as he could, and his feet were free—but there was no time to celebrate. The shadows were stalking behind him. He scurried up the wall until his fingertips hit flat rock—a cliff’s edge. He pulled himself up and turned to face his foe.

“It’s over, Magica. I have the high ground.”

“Lest you forget—anywhere  _ you _ can go,  _ I _ can go higher!” She thrust a clawed hand into the air, cackling madly as shadows rose up from the ground like jagged spikes. Scrooge gripped against them, formless but firm.

“A cage!” he cried. The wall building around him, spike by spike, was smooth and impenetrable. 

“Not a cage, McDuck,” she said, rising up over the edge, “but a ring!”

Her other hand gave rise to more shadows, shadows of people—people Scrooge recognized. Some were his rivals—Glomgold, the Beagle boys. But some were far from it—Beakley and Donald and—oh no, not the kids! “How could you bring them into this ya heartless heathen!”

“They may be your family, Scrooge, but they’re  _ my _ shadows!” she said, thrusting her hand forward. The shadows were sicced on Scrooge like wild frothing dogs.

* * *

“No!” Scrooge moaned, gripping his sheets and grimacing. Della’s head shot up in an instant. 

“Oh my gosh, did he say something?” Dewey said, jumping to his feet.

Della gently shook Scrooge by his shoulders and held her ear to his beak. A few seconds later, she looked back to Dewey, disappointed but attempting to smile. “Sorry Turbo, I think he’s just dreamin’.”

Dewey seemed indignant. “Well, it doesn’t sound like a very good one.”

Della’s smile faltered. “I know honey, but—”

“There’s nothing we can do about it. You don’t have to say it, I’ve heard it before,” he said, sitting back down with his knees pulled up to his chest. Della tried to muster a response, but the words didn’t come. 

* * *

The shadows almost immediately overtook Scrooge. He gritted his teeth, his knees buckling, but  _ no _ , he could not give in, he  _ would not _ give in. With a proud shout, he forced an arm free, pulling his head above the sea of shadows. He gasped for breath, using his cane to find a spot to pull himself free. 

“Give in, Scroogie!” She called, her voice the only sound anyone could hear. “This is your fate! You’ll bend now or later!”

“Not on your life!” He said, finally hooking his cane on the edge of the wall. “I’m Scrooge McDuck, and never have I ever bent to the will of the likes of you, Magica DeSpell! I’ll die fighting!” He leapt off the edge of the wall and went elbow first into the shadows. 

Magica’s face twisted into a mask of rage. “You’ve chosen the path of suffering,” she said, her voice a low growl. With one thrust of her staff, the shadows twisted around Scrooge’s neck, strangling him. He choked and gasped for air, but nothing came of it. The shadows rose up, bringing Scrooge face to face with Magica. The crystal ball of her staff glowed, and the shadows coursed with purple energy. Scrooge, breathless as he was, let out a desperate scream of pain. It burned like fire, engulfing him, consuming him. _Horrid, screaming_ _pain_.

He smiled.

“You call this suffering?” he said, his voice a wheeze as he strained to rip the shadowy bonds from his neck. He sucked in desperate breaths, staying above the mass of shadows like treading water in a choppy sea.

“When will you have had enough, McDuck?” Magica said, with a condescending annoyance Scrooge loathed. 

“Never!” he spat back. “The likes of you will never overcome me. Your shadows are nothing but that—shadow! And you’re nothing without your power! You’re nothing outside this realm!”

“It’s not  _ I _ that overcomes you,” she said, her smile sickening. “It is death. I’m only the messenger.”

“Not even that!”

“Not even? Scrooge McDuck intends to live forever?” she said. Her laugh was piercing. “Death is inevitable, you old fool! It comes for us all! You can run, and you can hide, but in the end your body fails, and death wins. Death  _ always _ wins.”

“I won’t accept that!”

“You deny your maker? You fight the unfightable, the infinite, the unknowable?”

“ _ YES! _ ”

Scrooge’s words came out like a boom, blasting the shadows away from his body. Magica shielded her eyes as they flew past her, Scrooge falling to the ground with a thud. Battered and bruised he may have been, he was far from gone. Magica lowered herself to the cliff’s edge, standing tall before him.

“It’s a fight you won’t win,” she said. “You’re smart enough to know that.”

Scrooge looked at her with fire in his eyes, but moment after moment, the fire cooled, until it was but a burning ember. He sunk down where he sat. “That I am,” he said, pulling his hat over his eyes. “That I am.”

Magica extended her staff, pointing it straight above Scrooge’s head. After a moment of silence, Scrooge looked the same direction.

“He’s come for you,” she said. “Are you ready?”

* * *

For the first time in hours, Scrooge’s breathing changed. The harsh, gurgling sound that came with every breath faded as his breaths came slower and slower. 

“Thirty seconds,” Gyro said aloud after one sharp breath in. The room turned to him. “Thirty seconds between his last two breaths.”

It wasn’t news, but it was confirmation of what everyone knew.

“It’s not gonna be much longer, is it?” Launchpad said. Donald held his hand to his beak and nodded, tears in his eyes.

Beakley looked to the children. They'd huddled in the corner, keeping themselves up with sleepover games. Now, they were only staring, eyes big and scared. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Beakley said. “Your Uncle isn’t in any pain.”

“But I am,” Webby said, her eyes cast down to her hands in her lap. 

Beakley was quiet. “We all are, dear.”

* * *

Scrooge took in the sight like a blind man gifted vision. 

Duckworth, tangible, in flesh.

“Bless me bagpipes,” Scrooge said, pulling off his hat and holding it to his chest. 

“He is the end of this road,” Magica said, walking ahead of Scrooge. “The closing of a chapter, the guide into a new world. He is your companion in life and death.”

Scrooge stood up and took a step forward. Magica held out a hand. 

“Do you accept him now?”

Scrooge paused. “I do,” he said, approaching Duckworth and gripping his hand, “but I don’t need this illusion.”

Duckworth smiled. His hand turned clawlike, and his body morphed into his demonic form. Scrooge closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

“I’m ready.”

Wordlessly, Duckworth dipped Scrooge back and gave him the kiss of death.

Magica gazed at the core, the gold light fading into darker and softer colors until it burnt out. As if once blotted out, the stars emerged in the sky, one by one, illuminating the world with a soft glow.

Scrooge opened his eyes and looked around. “That’s it?” he said with a small chuckle. “A wee kiss and I’ve left the land of the living?”

“Follow him, Scrooge. He will show you that this is far from the end.”

Duckworth pulled Scrooge forward, and, casting one look back to Magica, Scrooge followed. 

“It’s only the beginning!”

* * *

It was 12:15 AM. Scrooge took a long, wheezing breath in. It came out slow and calm. His body relaxed completely, his chest sunken and still. 10 seconds. 15. 20. 30. 45. 

“Uncle Scrooge?” Della said, tentatively reaching out and touching his chest. Her hand shot back in an instant, like she’d touched an electric fence. When she looked at her brother, she seemed years older.

“Donald, he’s gone.”

Her words tore through the room like they had an order to kill.

Donald came to Della’s side, taking Scrooge’s thin wrist in his hand and checking his pulse. You could hear him swallow hard as he laid Scrooge’s hand back down. He didn’t say a word, just nodded. 

No one dared to speak. The nurses came in, working quickly and silently, removing the tubes and wires from Scrooge’s body. “We’ll give you some time alone with him.”

The door closed.

Della was the first to snap, her face twisted in sorrow, but silent—until a sob burst from her throat and she buried her face in her elbow. Donald squeezed her shoulder tight, almost too tight, but they hardly noticed. Launchpad held Drake like a worn toy, Scrooge his burning childhood home. The kids convened on each other, whispering comforts, closer than they’d ever been before. Beakley’s knuckles were white-knuckle tense, tears running down her face in silence. Gyro left the room, and he didn’t come back. 

The vigil was over. 

The era had ended.

Today was the last day of Scrooge McDuck’s life, and the first day of the world without him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking through all 14 chapters. I hope you enjoyed the ride!
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all lovingly appreciated.
> 
> Message me on Tumblr (d0rbee.tumblr.com) or Twitter (@d0rbee) if you're interested in having me write something for you!


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